


Troublemakers

by ImaMePanda



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: AU-Teenagers, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Big Brothers, Discipline of Young Adults, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, If Josiah's hair weren't already going gray..., Little Brothers, Mischief, Non-Sexual Spanking, Papa Bear Josiah, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Spanking, Team as Family, Troublemakers AU, Younger Ezra, Younger J.D., Younger Nathan, Younger Vin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaMePanda/pseuds/ImaMePanda
Summary: When Conklin stirs up trouble for our three youngest Peacekeepers they stir it right back. Unfortunately they take things a bit too far and don't cover their tracks as well as they thought they did. Contains SPANKING. Don't read if you don't like.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old West AU that has mainly lived inside my head so far, where the catalyst of change is different ages for the four youngest-though admittedly I'm guessing at Canon ages for the other three. 
> 
> First Episode they are  
> Josiah-46  
> Chris-40  
> Buck-36  
> Nathan-24  
> Vin-21  
> Ezra-18  
> JD-16, like a week before.
> 
> The three youngest lie about their ages, JD saying he is 19, which I figure is his canon age, Ezra, who is of course very good at conning people says he is 25 and Vin says he is 26. Vin lies mostly out of habit, he trusts Chris but not the rest. JD and Ezra lie partly so they will be allowed to come along, but also because JD has runaway from the abusive orphanage he was put in after his mothers death, and because Ezra is trying to stay below his mothers radar.
> 
> Second episode-when Judge Travis recognizes Ezra it isn't as Ezra Simpson, bail jumper, but the teenage ward he and Evie had taken in when Maude was sentenced to a year in Ft. Laramie. Ezra was originally sentenced as well, but when taking the boy on a visit to his mother in the small area set aside for women offenders, already upset at the bruises clearly left by the guards, Judge Travis overhears a rather disturbing conversation. Like Witness, but worse, with Maude blaming Ezra for their being caught, and backhanding the boy. Within a few days the judge, still reeling from the death of his son and furious that some people don't understand the gift they've been given, has the sixteen year old remanded into his care and takes him home to Evie. All goes as well as can be expected for close to a year, but a month before Maude is to be released Ezra disappears. Now, a few months after his eighteenth birthday the Judge finds him. Whole buncha stuff happens then, but biggest thing is, because Ezra never finished serving out his "sentence" the judge still has legal custody, and reluctantly winds up giving responsibility to Josiah. He misses the boy, exasperating and slippery as he is, but it's clear Ezra trusts the rest of the "seven" to keep him safe in a way he didn't trust him and Evie. That the ex-priest is clearly fond of, if rather bemused by, Ezra, helps. Still, he has every intention of keeping an eye on the situation, and once Mary learns Ezra is there he has a determined helper.
> 
> A few months later, in between Witness(In which Josiah was initially enamored by the sight of Maude, but quickly became unenamored) and Nemesis, Judge Travis comes to town, both to visit his family, which includes Ezra whether he likes it or not, and to find out whether JD is the John Daniel Dunne missing from an orphanage in Boston. If so he's sorry, but JD is a few years too young to be the sheriff. After a fair amount of angst, most of which would have been unnecessary if JD hadn't run-off instead of just asking the judge whether he meant to send him back, Buck is assigned custody, (as Orin sees it he was already raising the boy, whether JD is sixteen or nineteen doesn't much matter). Chris won't take the position of sheriff officially, so it winds up going to Buck by default of no one else wanting it either. JD gets to keep the badge, though.
> 
> Vin winds up just telling Chris not long after, when the two are camping out in the desert though Chris had already pretty much figured it out. It doesn't change much, but he does keep a closer eye on the younger man, interfering more than he would have before, and stepping in when he feels he needs too.
> 
> This is set about a year after that, so all the boys are a year older, and have bonded quite a bit as an unofficial family. I've tried to keep them in character as much as possible, but it is a spanking/discipline fic. If you don't like it, click the back button.

Inez smirked as she looked at the poker game going on in the middle of the room. She didn't know what the three youngest peacekeepers had been up to, but it was obviously something the others wouldn't approve of, if the nervous glances both Ezra and JD had been taking towards the door since they came in an hour ago meant anything. Granted, Ezra's glances were much fewer and less obvious, but Inez had been watching the seven long enough she could see he was anything but as relaxed as he seemed. Vin had been in earlier too, and even more squirrely than the others, taking off after only a drink, heading out on a long ride. Well, whatever they had done, they hadn't done it in the saloon, and they seemed to be in one piece, so Inez was content to sit back and wait for the fireworks.

 

Inez got busy serving a group of cowhands that came in, pouring drinks, and occasionally reminding one that she was _not_ a working girl with a well placed fist or foot, and had let the antics of the men she was coming to see as family slip from her mind. Which is why she was as startled as everyone else when the roar of, “My boy did _what_?” came from the boardwalk out front. 

 

Senior Sanchez sounded incredibly unhappy, and judging by the way Ezra jumped out of his seat, pushing back from the table in one fluid move and tossing his hand in, not even bothering to announce that he was folding, just a breathless, “Mah apologies, excuse me gentlemen.”, before he was running to the backdoor, he'd given him reason to be. JD seemed to be going the opposite route, and had slunk down in his seat so that just his head showed over the table, and was still going lower.

 

“Ezra Standish!” Ezra might have made it out the door unseen, but he was wearing his trademark red jacket, and Josiah saw the light reflecting off one of the coattails and was after him like a shot, the bulky man dodging through the crowded tables in a surprisingly graceful manner. “Don't you run from me!” Josiah disappeared out the backdoor after Ezra, as Buck, looking particularly long suffering, walked over to JD's hat brim (as that was all you could see now) and spoke plainly, with a voice full of exasperation.

 

“Son, I understand the temptation, but you can't just go around doing things like dumping whitewash and manure on people, even if it is Conklin.” The entire saloon busted up laughing at this pronouncement, and Buck glared around at them all. He was trying to handle this like a grown-up, and they weren't helping. He'd already had to stop in an alley and laugh for about five minutes before he could trust himself to keep a straight face. Buck hadn't really expected Josiah to get as mad as he did when he told him, but then again Chris hadn't seemed too happy when he'd lit out after Vin on Pony, telling Buck to “handle yours and make sure Josiah does the same”.

 

“It wasn't me!” He could still only see JD's hat brim over the table and he stepped over to grab his little brother by the shoulder and haul him back into his seat, taking the time to knock the useless hat off his head as he did, JD not saying anything about it for once.

 

“Not just you, sure, but you and Vin and Ezra.”

 

“It wasn't!” JD's voice was higher pitched than usual and Buck crossed his arms as he stood over him.

 

“Then who was it?”

 

JD's eyes flitted away from Buck furtively, “Strangers.”

 

“Strangers?” Buck's face was incredulous, “Strangers came to town just to dump a bucket of manure and whitewash on Joe Conklin. JD, even that man isn't that annoying!”

 

“I didn't say that was the only reason they came to town!”

 

Buck was starting to get a bit annoyed by now. “I don't like ya lying to me, kid. You were seen, all three of you, and I don't want to hear a lie out of your mouth about it again, ya hear?”

 

JD hung his head, nodding, “M'sorry, Buck.”

 

Buck sighed, “C'mon, we gotta go have a talk.”

 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“Now Josiah, Ah can see your upset with mah actions, and Ah can understand-”

 

“Ezra?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Sanchez?”

 

“Shut-up and c'mere.” Ezra's back was up against the fence behind the saloon, the one that seemed to mostly be there to hold up the slanting privy, and he shook his head, having no intention of removing his backside from the solid protection behind him. He wasn't scared of Josiah exactly, the one time the man had really lost his temper he'd promptly removed himself from the vicinity without laying a hand on Ezra, and had apologized later. That was far more consideration than many of the 'relatives' his mother had left him with over the years had had for him. So no, Ezra wasn't scared of Josiah, the man wouldn't actually hurt him.

 

But that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. He shook his head again and Josiah straightened up to his full height. It was strange how, for all both Buck and Nathan were taller than him, Josiah seemed so much bigger.

 

“Josiah...”

 

“Ezra.” The human mountain wasn't going anywhere, nor was he going to just grab Ezra himself, not now. Josiah was going to make Ezra step forward and give himself up, and Ezra glared at him, but of course he didn't react. Ezra had already learned that Josiah had more patience than him, or at least was more stubborn, and could wait him out for ages.

 

He'd hidden on the roof of the old grainery for an hour once, but that had only made him madder.  _Every time_ Ezra had run it had only made him madder, but he couldn't help it, it was just in his nature. Finally, finally, he took a step forward and let Josiah grab him by the arm and haul him in front of him. His feet had been getting sore, standing there, that was all. Soon, something else was getting sore as Josiah bent him over and tucked him under one arm, his large paw of a hand coming smacking down on Ezra's posterior, eliciting an undignified squawk from the gambler, then twice more, though Ezra kept his mouth sealed against any noise that wanted to escape on those. Lord, that stung! “That was for running from me. We'll talk about the rest when we get home.” Home to Josiah was the old church he'd been rebuilding, and the little rooms on the back where he slept and stored his things. As Josiah towed him along, taking no chances on another escape attempt, Ezra had to admit that even though he slept above the saloon, he, Ezra P. Standish, who had spent most of his life highly uncomfortable around churches, had come to think of this one the same way.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Chris frowned as he turned off the trail, following Peso's tracks down a steep embankment. It wasn't bad in dry weather, but he wasn't sure why Vin would have come down this way to find a camp. At least he was leaving tracks, Chris knew very well he could have erased them and left the gunslinger none the wiser to his whereabouts until he came back in his own sweet time.

 

A sigh left him, before a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. When he'd told Vin to lay off the pranks on his fellow peacekeepers he hadn't realized he was turning him loose on the townsfolk. Of course, if anybody was deserving of such things it was Conklin, after what the son-of-a-bitch had done to Billy, but they were supposed to be the law in town. The law didn't dump shit on people, whatever they deserved.

 

Chris would never admit it, under pain of death, but he wished he'd seen it.

 

He rode along for awhile longer, crossing over a dry stream bed, and back up an incline that wasn't nearly as steep as the first but was a lot more gravely, through a grove of tree's with a stream that would have been perfect to camp at, and eventually to a little canyon in the rocks he never could have found on his own. Boy had made him work for it. There he was, fire roaring away merrily with a snake roasting on a spit over it-Chris hated snake, but Vin loved it-and a quiet, sneaky, little grin dancing it's way across the tracker's face as he watched Chris dismount from his horse and tie him next to Peso, glaring at Vin the whole while.

 

“Evenin', Chris. Want some supper?”

 

“I want you to tell me what the hell you were thinking.” Chris walked over and settled across from Vin at the fire, balancing on a small boulder, still glaring. Vin's face lost it's smile and he nodded.

 

“Thinkin' Conklin is a bastard, walkin' 'round town like he's better than everybody after what he did.” Vin took a sip off his flask, and passed it across the fire to Chris, then stared hard at the flames, like he was looking for something in them. Chris waited him out. “Should hear the things he says 'bout Inez, things he says 'bout lots of people.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“Ain't the sorta thing a decent man repeats.” Chris could see that whatever it was it was bad, the way Vin's head had ducked and his jaw had clenched.

 

“The general idea.” Chris wasn't expecting the torrent of words that flooded out of his usually silent friend, but it seemed Vin had been holding this in for awhile.

 

“Any women who spends time around any of us is...I ain't gonna say it. Nate won't say nothing, but I head Conklin one day, mostly saying more shit I ain't gonna repeat, and saying if the town was anything like decent they wouldn't let him practice medicine at all. Then he's knocking on the clinic door two days later, needin' help. And you know Nate, he ain't gonna turn anybody away. Gots things to say about all of us. Goes 'round, saying we should all be run outta town, 'cause we're 'riff-raff'. Mostly, it's been behind our backs...but not always. Had JD almost in tears last week.” Vin looked up and Chris realized that he wasn't just angry, he was hurt. Hurt for what had been done to the others, but hurt for himself too. Vin wouldn't tell him what Conklin had said about him either, too used, even now, to not thinking he mattered compared to others. “And people agree with him, sometimes. Man terrorizes a widow and a little boy like that, and 'cause he dresses fancy he's better than us? Only, when it's Ezra, suddenly dressing fancy is suspicious. Ya know what else? Ezra ain't allowed to tutor the Polacek kids no more. Going out there once a week for six months and now all of a sudden he ain't welcome. Can't prove Conklin is behind it, but after everything else...”

 

Vin's eyes pleaded with him across the fire to understand, and in a way Chris thought he did. Conklin wasn't a villain they could use guns or knives to fight against, or even the law so long as the bastard kept his nose clean. So they had fought back in a way that was open to them.

 

Didn't explain why none of the boys, why Vin in particular, hadn't said a word to him. Chris would have taken care of it himself, without any of the boys putting themselves in Conklin's crosshairs. For all the man's talk, since the day Ezra's mother had convinced him he had a mob on his tail, he'd been terrified of the peacekeepers. It was why he was so set on getting rid of them. While some of the townsfolk might speak out against them, they were mostly the sort the rest of the town didn't like. As long as people like Mary, and Mrs. Potter, and the others who practically ran the community, spoke up for them, Chris had thought of Conklin and his ilk as an annoyance, and ignored them. Had thought that was the best way to handle it.

 

Obviously it hadn't been. Not know that he knew this been more than the ill thought-out prank he'd thought it was, now that he knew this had been half of his men feeling backed into a corner and lashing out because of it. The idea that the man had been tormenting the four youngest peacekeepers under his nose and he hadn't known made Chris want to do something a whole hell of a lot worse than what the boys had done. Piece of shit would be lucky if Chris didn't shoot him. Hell, when he told Josiah that his campaign to get Ezra to admit he wanted to be a teacher had had such a setback the man was likely to kill Conklin with his bare hands.

 

Alright, maybe he wouldn't shoot him. Or let Josiah kill him. Lock him up for terrorizing a child, maybe. JD was seventeen, he still counted.

 

He would have taken care of it. Vin knew that, didn't he? The question most have shown in his eyes somehow because the answer was there suddenly, in the stubborn set of Vin's mouth. He'd known and he hadn't told Chris plain and simple because he'd wanted to handle it himself, or at least hadn't wanted to let the older family members help. Had decided it was his to handle. Problem was, that wasn't how they did things and Vin knew that too.

 

“I'm gonna have to punish you.” He says it plainly, no beating around the bush, and Vin glares at him, hurt and angry at him now.

 

“Bastard deserved it, and you know it.”

 

“Not for doing what you did to Conklin, though it's damn stupid to antagonize a powerful man when you got a bounty on your head.” Chris considered this for a moment. “A little for Conklin. Mostly because you promised me you were gonna come to me if something happened you or the others needed help with. Instead you kept it a secret, and went behind our back to deal with a family problem yourselves. If we have Conklin or somebody else gunning for us, I gotta know Vin. I can't be the leader if I don't know what's going on. Said yourself Nathan won't say anything if somebody's giving him trouble, but the rest of us can do something about it if we know. Ezra and JD look up to you. Try and do things like you whether they admit it or not.” Vin bowed his head here, knowing it was true and he'd gotten the other boys in trouble. “You want Ezra deciding to deal with some angry player looking for revenge on his own? Want JD riding off on his own next time a telegraph comes asking for the sheriff's help?” The bowed head shook mutely. No, he definitely did not want either of those things to happen. “C'mere.” 

 

“Chris...” Chris just looked back at him steadily and after a minute he pushed himself slowly to his feet and crossed around the the fire to him, reluctant but not resisting. Chris pulled him down over his lap in one move, making sure to move slow enough Vin didn't hit his hands on the rock as he reached out to balance himself. He braced himself as one of Chris's hands cinched around his waist, pulling him closer, knowing that meant the other one was rising in the air. It didn't help as a blazing hard smack landed smack dab in the center of his left ass cheek, making him squirm before he forced his body to stay still. He wasn't gonna be a wuss, he could take what Chris had to dish out. Chris landed another smack right over the the top of the first one, then two more swats just like it on his right cheek. He continued like that in a zig-zag line down both cheeks, his hand easily covering most of Vin's scrawny behind, as he lost the battle against first squirming and then kicking. Maybe he was sniffling a little too, but Chris had a damn hard hand. If this had been about the prank he might have been able to resist better, but knowing it was about not going to Chris, or even Josiah or Buck, for help, made it different. Vin didn't think he could ever be sorry for putting Conklin in his place, but knowing he'd disappointed Chris was almost as painful as the smacks that were now landing on his sit-spot and bringing the first tears to his eyes.

 

Then it was over. It took a second for Vin to realize that it had stopped and Chris's hand was patting him steadily on the back, and then he quickly wiped a sleeve over his eyes, and started to push himself up. Chris waited until Vin was steady on his feet, one arm out to catch him until he was sure, then rose after him, pulling him into a brief, tight hug and then stepping away. “Alright, eat your snake and lets get out of here.

 

“Chris?” Vin looked at him a bit confusedly, one hand absentmindedly rubbing his sore rear, wanting to know why he'd been let off so easy. Chris didn't tan him very often, this was only the third time(though Josiah'd got him once), but both times before Vin had been bawling by the time he was done. Chris clamped a hand on his shoulder, and looked him right in the eye.

 

“I understand you were trying to protect the people you care about, our family and friends, it's just that you went about it the wrong way. You keep something important like this from me again we will have a much longer talk.” Then he let just a hint of a grin enter his eyes, “Though if you have to go about something the wrong way, you choose the right one.” Vin found himself grinning back, relieved that things were back to normal.

 

“It was a sight, cowboy.”

 

“Don't call me cowboy, Tanner.” Chris moved to guide Vin over to the stream, figuring he'd feel better once his face was washed, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Did he scream?”

 

“Like a little girl.”

 

 


	2. J.D.

JD moped along behind Buck, tempted to try and make a break for it like Ezra had. Only, while JD had never done that before, he'd seen the results of Ezra trying to run off when Josiah or one of the others was after him.

 

He always got caught. And then swatted more. You'd think he'd stop, but he didn't. You'd think watching him get caught would completely remove the temptation from JD, but somehow it just made the possibility real. Just as he was seriously considering darting into the back alleys behind the street, they were in front of the jail and it was too late. JD froze as Buck continued up the porch, still standing there when his 'big brother' turned around and beckoned him up the porch. “C'mon kid, let's get this over with.”

 

“Buck...do we hafta?”

 

“You did something you know you ain't allowed to do, to someone I told you to stay away from, and then ya lied to me about it. Whatta you think, JD?” The boy kicked at the ground, and muttered something rude that Buck decided to ignore. He didn't ignore the fact that JD still wasn't listening to him, just standing at the bottom of the porch. “JD. Inside, boy.”

 

JD moaned, rolled his eyes, and muttered, “This is stupid.”, but most importantly stayed defiantly right where he was was. Buck wasn't planning on being too hard on the boy, not for the prank anyway, but JD listening to him was important. This wasn't the same thing at all, and he knew it, but Buck couldn't help but picture JD rolling his eyes and not moving when he shouted an order at him in the middle of a gunfight and the very idea made him sick to his stomach.

 

“I ain't gonna tell ya again.”

 

JD looked up, mouth open to toss off another smart remark, but whatever he saw in Buck's face stopped him, and he nodded, mumbling, “Yessir.” and started trudging his way up the jail steps. Buck stepped to the side so that JD had to enter the jailhouse in front of him, swatting him sharply as he passed. JD yelped, and started to turn his head to complain, but then seemed to think better of it and just kept heading into the jail.

 

Buck was tired of fooling around, he didn't like coming down on JD, even when the boy pushed him like this, and wanted it to be over with. As soon as JD was clear of the doorway he stepped inside and took hold of his upper arm, tugged him over to the sheriff's desk with him, sitting on the edge of it and trying to pull JD forward over his hip. Trying, because the second JD realized he was already going over Buck's knee he pulled back, trying to jerk his arm free from Buck's grip. “JD, son, stop that right now.” He shook the arm he was holding, just enough to jar him a little, and then went to pull him over again, when JD hauled off and kicked him in the ankle!

 

“No! It isn't fair! Conklin deserved it, and you're just a bully!” That was it. Letting go of the ankle he'd grabbed reflexively, Buck looked up at JD, who was hovering nervously a few feet away, shocked over what he had done, with a smile that had no humor in it.

 

“You really don't know when to quit, do you? If we were roughhousing that wouldn't be nothing, but you don't try and fight me when I'm taking you to task. That ain't okay, and it ain't ever gonna be okay.” He sat himself properly back on the desk and pointed at the ground beside himself. “C'mere. Now.” JD shuffled forward and this time let Buck pull him down over his knee without protest. Once he had him in place Buck laid a hand on JD's back to steady him, patting a bit, so the boy knew he wasn't too mad, and took a deep breath, both to calm himself down and to steel himself to the job ahead. He brought his hand down firm and swift about ten times, trying not to wince himself as JD yelped and squirmed. “That's about all I was planning to give you for the prank, kid.”

 

“Was?” JD looked at him over his shoulder, face hopeful and crestfallen at the same time. Buck nodded, hating the way the kid's face fell even further.

 

“Yep. Then you had to go and lie to me, and refuse to do as I told ya.” JD turned his face forward, feeling both guilty and damned stupid, as Buck's hand started falling again. Buck had looked almost mournful when he said that, sounded mournful because JD had told him a lie that he knew even when he was telling it Buck wouldn't believe for a million years!

 

Not that telling Buck a lie he believed would be any better, JD thought, hissing through his teeth as a swat landed on a patch of skin that was already particularly sore, he did understand that. It just sucked that if he'd told the truth, or not been such a baby about taking his medicine, this would be over by now. JD's face flushed as he remembered he'd actually kicked Buck. Buck was going slow now, hand a lot heavier than it had been, landing a smack and waiting a second before landing the next one, so he could really feel each one. A swat landed so it clipped his thigh and JD yelped, tossing a hand back and Buck grabbed it with the hand that had been resting on his back, squeezing it lightly then tucking it down into the small of his back. Another swat landed low down on the other side, and they were halfway to another ten by now and he hoped Buck would stop then, and thought he would-but then JD hadn't just lied, he'd fought him too, so maybe he wouldn't.

 

He should have known Buck would be fair, shouldn't have tried to lie, and should have done as he was told, but he'd seen how nervous Ezra was (Ezra was always nervous, even when Josiah just wanted to talk to him. Buck had said it was because Ezra's mother was a word JD still didn't know the meaning of, because no one would tell him, and that Chris had smacked Buck on the head for saying), and then _Vin_ , who was never scared of anything, ever, had ridden out of town. Another smack landed and JD couldn't help but cry out, “Owww...Buck, please!” His whole butt was burning now, Buck's hand was big and every inch had been smacked at least once, most twice. JD had figured what they'd done was way worse than he'd realized, and he was in it deep. Then he'd started thinking about all the things Conklin had said about all of them, about his family and about Buck in particular and gotten mad, mad that he knew he was going to get a spanking for what had been rightly earned by Mr. Conklin, as far as he was concerned. A whimper escaped him as Buck's hand swatted down on the center of his ass again, and JD knew if he didn't stop at ten he was going to wind up crying for real, not just the tears that were pooling up in the corners of his eyes.

 

“Almost done, kid.” Buck's voice was soothing, but almost done didn't mean done, and JD was sorry he'd lied, he really was, so really, Buck could stop already. This was all that stupid Conklin's fault, he'd always been a jerk, but he'd all but started a campaign against the peacekeepers the last couple of months. The worst day had been last week. JD had tripped coming out of the restaurant, the last jam laden biscuit from his breakfast clutched firmly in his hand, hurrying to meet Vin for morning patrol, and landed directly on Conklin, smearing jam and biscuit crumbs all down the front of the man's suit. He'd tried to apologize to him, it had been a complete accident-as if JD would ever waste good food just to ruin Conklin's stupid suit-but the man just wouldn't hear it. JD was a menace, a delinquent, a motherless bastard and a nasty little Mick brat, and it was all that stupid Wilmington's fault, such a louse, such a home-wrecker, who spent all his time and money on the saloon girls, had no business being in charge of a child. He, Joseph Conklin, was going to do something about it even if nobody else would, he had friends that would make sure whatever farce of guardianship Travis had given to the town Lothario was revoked, and if JD wasn't careful he'd be cooling his heels in an orphanage. He'd hissed it all at him, voice cruel, but quiet, so that no one but JD could hear. Vin had come looking for him, and seen the man standing next to him, seen JD's face, and had quickly pulled JD away, but no matter how much he'd asked JD wouldn't tell him what Conklin had said. It would have made it too real, too scary.

 

JD had hated the orphanage.

 

Buck had stopped and was rubbing JD's back, though he hadn't seemed to realize it yet, when the little hitching breaths that had been tearing at his resolve suddenly turned into full-blown sobs. He had a moment of full-blown panicked horror, worried that he'd somehow been spanking JD much harder than he thought and had actually hurt him, and froze, before realizing he was being ridiculous. Buck knew how strong he was, and he'd only swatted the kid about twenty times. He wouldn't have been crying ordinarily, not yet. Something else was going on. Buck scooted further back on the desk and turned JD over in his arms, situating him so his rear was balanced in the open space between Buck's legs, guiding his head into the crook of his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. “Hey, hey, it's alright now. Buck's gotcha kid. Ya just cry as long as ya need to, we got all the time in the world. Then you can tell Ol' Buck here just what's got you crying so hard.” Buck rocked him, expecting JD's crying to taper off, but he just kept crying and crying for ages, to the point that Buck was worried he was going to make himself sick, and starting to wonder if his first thought had been partially right. “C'mon now, pard, you gotta try and calm down. I'm sorry if I was too hard on ya, I didn't mean to be.” JD shook his head almost violently, burying it deeper in Buck's neck and squeezing onto Buck tight enough to hurt a little.

 

“Not yoouuu.” It was more a wail than a word and Buck moved so that one of the arms he had around JD could rub the kids back. The only other time he'd seen the kid cry like this was nightmares after that horrible mess at the bank.

 

“Okay, pard, I'm real glad. Can ya tell me what's wrong?”

 

“Don't let him take me back, Buck, don't let him take me back there, please!” The force and the fear in the words made Buck's own eyes sting, because JD wasn't supposed to be that scared, not anymore, not here, not with him and the others to protect him, then with sudden clarity he realized where 'there' was and he rushed to reassure the boy.

 

He didn't know for _sure_ who him was, though he had a damn good idea, but whoever it was, Buck was gonna kill 'em.

 

“That ain't _never_ gonna happen. I promised I wasn't gonna let no one take you away from me, and I keep my promises, don't I?” A reluctant nod into his neck and fresh hot tears, “Promised you weren't ever going back there, either, and it'll be a cold day in hell before you do. When the judge decided you could stay, he made me responsible for bringing ya up 'til you're a man, and made it legal so no one can even if they tried. You know that, JD. And _if_ anyone tried I'd make them regret it, that's another promise.”

 

Voice steadier, but small now JD said, “Mr. Conklin said he had a judge friend who was above Judge Travis and he wouldn't dare cross him. And that he could get a whole bunch of townsfolk to say you were unfit and then I'd wind up back in the orphanage for sure.” Yep, that was it. Buck was gonna kill that son-of-a-bitch, nice and slow too.

 

He'd just like to see Chris or Josiah try and stop him. “I'm gonna kill 'im.” Judging by the startled look JD shot at him, face leaving his neck for the first time, he sounded serious. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

 

“Then you'll go to jail, or hang, that's stupid.” JD was glaring just a little now, eyes red and swollen and cheeks still a little damp, and he couldn't have looked more fragile if he were a glass bauble nestled in cotton wool. Buck knew the kid was tough as hell in his own way, but damned if he looked it.

 

“You're right. I can't do that, I'd have a hell of a hard time looking after you if I was in Yuma. Joe Conklin is full of shit. He's not Judge Travis, and I doubt that weasel has any friends higher up than our Judge. I _know_ he couldn't get the townsfolk to say I was unfit.” He shifted the kid a little as he spoke, untangling one of his hands so he could take hold of JD's chin and make sure they were eye to eye, “But you know what, son? It wouldn't matter even if he did. I told you, Buck Wilmington keeps his promises. You and I, we'd just go off to Mexico if it came down to it. _No one_ is taking you away from me and _no one_ is taking you back to the orphanage. I don't care if they bring down the whole damn army.”

 

JD was looking at him in almost awe, the sort of thing that Buck would ordinarily eat up, but right now the only thing he was worrying about was that JD believed him, because, by god, he meant every word. “You'd really leave Chris and the others for me?”

 

“'Course I would. I reckon we could probably get a few of the others, maybe even all of 'em, to come with us, but that's not the point. You're my boy, JD.” Buck looked a bit embarrassed here, but plowed on anyway, “You're my little brother that I love to fool around the town with, get into trouble with, but you're also my son in a way. I love ya, and it's my job to protect you and take care of you.”

 

“I feel like that too,” JD said shyly. “When we're wrestling or playing pranks on the others, like that day we hid all Josiah's Bibles?” Buck had to stop himself from either shushing JD or looking around nervously. He'd regretted that from the moment he saw how upset Josiah had been, and was still fairly certain the big man would be handing out the tanning of a lifetime if he found out they'd been the ones behind it, and not to JD. “Or when you talk to me about girls, I feel like you're my big brother. But times like, well, now, or when I got the flu and you took care of me as much as Nate did, or,” the boy blushed now, looking down, “when I had those nightmares, after Annie, you feel more like a...Da.” JD's voice was barely more than a whisper by the end and Buck squeezed him tightly, planting a smacking kiss on his temple.

h If his voice was a little thicker than usual, there was no one but JD to hear.

 

“I never had a Da before.”

 

“Me either. Hope I'm doing alright.”

 

JD grinned at him tremulously, “You're doing pretty good.” They sat there for a minute longer, then JD seemed to abruptly realize he was still in Buck's lap and with the usual amount of teenage embarrassment awkwardly climbed to his feet, trying to wave off Buck's help and being ignored. Buck busied himself with some papers on his desk to give JD a couple minutes, trying not to smile as he saw him rub his behind out of the corner of his eye.

 

 

 

He wondered whether he should say it or not, and in the end he decided he had to. Despite what others might say, Buck's mother had been the saint he called her, and hadn't made many mistakes with him-and when she did she always apologized. He turned around, took a deep breath, and just said it, “I'm sorry for spanking you for the prank, if I'd known why you did it I wouldn't have.”

 

JD shrugged, wiping his nose on his sleeve, making Buck grimace and pull the handkerchief that was in his shirt pocket out, and hand it to him, waiting as JD blew his nose, “S'okay. I shouldn't have lied to you, or not listened. Or kicked you in the ankle.”

 

Buck chuckled, “I wasn't saying sorry for that part of the tanning. That part you deserved.” JD huffed at him, but nodded, and Buck reached out and ruffled his hair. He sobered up again, asking earnestly, “Are we okay?”

 

“Yeah, Buck, we're okay. Buck?”

 

“Yeah, kid?”

 

“It wasn't just me Conklin said stuff to.” Ah hell. He was gonna have to kill Conklin after all.

 


	3. Ezra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who left kudos or commented. You guys make my day every time.

 

Josiah settled himself against the back of the pew, crossing his arms and looking down on Ezra, who seemed to have decided to go the "dignified young man" route now that he knew he couldn't escape. He settled his hands neatly on his lap and looked up expectantly at Josiah, as though he were waiting to be served tea rather than reamed out for dumping such a foul mixture on one of the town's proprietors. "Now son, I know you know what our duties as peacekeepers entail, because that is a discussion we have had more than once. You mind explaining how what you did to Joe Conklin falls under those duties?" Josiah braced himself for the answer, knowing that with Ezra the reply was liable to either make him want to laugh or smack the kid, and he had no intention of doing either. The hint of a mischievous spark that flashed in Ezra's eyes before he responded told him he was right.

 

“Well, Mr. Sanchez, being as it is our duty to regulate the citizenry of this fair province, and exhort some measure of control ovah their behavior, we felt that it was necessary in view of Conklin's conduct to see if we could modify his actions with our own.” Josiah was right. Once he'd finished translating in his head(and that was one 'tell', as Ezra would put it, that the boy couldn't seem to shed, the more nervous he was, the wordier he got), he had to bite his lip to keep a straight face-not so much from Ezra's words themselves, but because it took him such a mouthful to say they'd done it because Conklin was a jerk, and they figured being covered with shit that was particularly hard to wash off might help him figure it out.

 

Josiah couldn't say he disagreed, but that didn't mean it was a good enough reason. He understood the lure of temptation himself, especially that which disguised itself as justice. Just because he understood, didn't mean he'd stand idly by while his boy was led blindly down that path-though knowing Ezra, if he wasn't leading the way himself, he'd at least have shucked his blindfold long ago. “What did Mr. Conklin do to bring down you and the other boys ire on him? I know it can't be for what happened with the Travis's, as you already got a rather thorough revenge for that when he came back to town.” Ezra did a rather too good job of looking both confused and curious and Josiah hid a sigh. 

 

“Did some prior mishap befall Mr. Conklin?”

 

“Ezra, the wheels disappeared off his wagon overnight. When Vin was on night patrol. We found them on Mrs. Potter's roof. Three days later.” Josiah pinched the bridge of his nose when Ezra nodded in supposed surprised appreciation.

 

“Oh, yes, that had slipped mah mind, now Ah remembah the incident in question. Quite ingenious really.” He flashed a dimpled grin at Josiah, who wasn't sure how the boy could make him want to strangle him and laugh at the same time. “Whoevah was behind it.”

 

“Ezra, you do realize I'm fixing to tan your hide, don't you?”

 

Ezra straightened his shoulders, sobering, “Yes sah, Ah do.”

 

“You're already caught. You already admitted to it. I'm trying to give you a chance to tell your side of the story here. So, tell me. Why, son?” To say Josiah was in some ways like a fish out of water when it came to trying to raise a boy who was almost a man was like saying grass was green. He had some good ideas on what he thought a boy needed, and some other ideas on what they did not need. Mostly though, he'd thought of the things he'd hated his father doing, the things that had made him feel both furious and helpless, hopeless, and vowed never to do any of them. No matter how angry he was, no matter how set in stone things seemed to be, Ezra always got a chance to explain himself. He generally was more than happy to, so that all Josiah had to worry about was reading between the lines in the boy's rather grandiose version of the truth. He rarely out and out lied, not to Josiah anyway, but exaggeration, prevarication, and obfuscation were ever-sharp tools in Ezra's mind. Child was simply too clever for his own good.

 

Never before had the boy refused. “Ah'd really rather not say, as it is not entirely mah story to tell.”

 

“The other boys are already in trouble, you ain't tattling on anybody, Ezra.” Nothing. The boy fixed his eyes on the bridge of Josiah's nose rather than his eyes and didn't budge in his response.

 

“Still, Ah can not tell you what you wish to know.”

 

“A burden shared is a burden halved.”

 

“That's a very nice platitude, Josiah, but Ah am still unable to tell you.”

 

“Ezra...” The warning tone in Josiah's voice was clear, and Ezra winced in acknowledgment, but didn't respond. “Will you at least tell me whose idea it was?” That question seemed to stiffen something in the boy's back and he raised his chin, almost as though he were offended.

 

“No. Ah will not.”

 

“ _Ezra Patrick_.” It was more of a growl than anything, and for the first time Ezra seemed to bend.

 

“Josiah, Ah gave mah word!” Ezra's face was in earnest now, still no intention of stopping his defiance, but pleading for understanding.

 

If he'd given his word, Josiah did understand, as much as he could. After a lifetime of dishonesty, of having to figure out right and wrong on his own, Ezra had very little he considered sacred. The boy regularly swore on 'his sainted mothers grave', ignoring the fact that, remarkable as she was, Maude was no saint, far from it, and very much alive. His history was an ever changing tapestry of half-truths, never lies, but always embroidered, padded. Ezra had grown up changing not just his name, but who he was, and had so many masks even he did not always seem to know himself.

 

But when his boy gave his word he kept it. Josiah had realized that not long after Ezra had come to be in his charge, and while he'd been remarkably fond of their black sheep already, that had been the first of many times Ezra had filled him with pride. That he was just as likely to do something in the next moment that would fill Josiah with consternation and a desire to say a prayer for his soul-well, the Lord made some folks more complicated than others. He'd have to tread carefully here, “Just on whose idea it was? Or the reason why?”

 

Hands tugging on his jacket sleeve, eyes dropping to the floor, Ezra admitted, “The idea.”

 

“Then why won't you tell me what Conklin did? Ezra, I know it's something, and it's not going to be long before Chris or Buck tell me. I don't want to be too hard on you, son.” There was a moment's pause, and then words erupted from Ezra, emotions that were usually carefully contained pushing to the surface, even as he kept his body stiff.

 

“You should be! It doesn't matter why Ah did it! Ah heard your voice, when you found out-Ah embarrassed you Josiah. Ah _shamed_ you. It's all Ah ever do.” Josiah's mouth was hanging open before Ezra's outburst was halfway over, horrified at what he was hearing, but Ezra's eyes were still trained on the ground and didn't see. That Ezra sometimes had doubts, insecurities, was no secret to Josiah, but this was beyond that. Staring down at the bowed head Josiah's mouth firmed into a thin line, and he crouched down, awkwardly fitting his broad shoulders into the space between the pews.

 

“Ezra Patrick Standish, look at me right now.” Ezra knew better than to ignore Josiah when he sounded like that, like quiet thunder, and reluctantly lifted his face. “You've never shamed me. Not once. You've exasperated me, frustrated me, and even once or twice disappointed me-though not nearly as many times as you have made me proud. But you have never, not _ever_ , shamed me. You hear?” He got a tiny nod, from an Ezra who wasn't quite managing to get his usual poker face up and was looking at Josiah like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Like he didn't quite believe that Josiah meant it. Part of Josiah wanted to ask what he had done, to fall to the floor and beg forgiveness for somehow, after trying so hard, making Ezra feel as his father had him made him feel. But that wouldn't help. Nor would grabbing the still sometimes skittish young man and crushing him to his chest, for all Josiah wanted to comfort him. Instead he placed a firm and steady hand gently on Ezra's knee, squeezing, and then, when Ezra didn't pull away, slid up and into the pew next to him, pressing his shoulder into the gambler's and was more than a little relieved when an answering pressure was returned.

 

“Thank you, Josiah,” It was so quiet Josiah could hardly make out the words.

 

“Ain't nothing to thank me for, son, just the truth.” Ezra moved then, slow and hesitant, sliding down the few inches required for his head to be level with Josiah's shoulder, leaning more of his weight on him. Josiah waited a moment longer, then shifted so he could wrap an arm around Ezra, the boy's head sliding down to rest on his chest. There was just quiet for a few minutes before with a deep breath, Ezra began speaking quietly.

 

“Mr. Conklin has been behaving abominably for sometime now. The gentlemen believes that because Mr. Jackson is colored he has every right to speak of and to him as he wishes, no mattah how many times our esteemed healer has tended to him or his loved ones while they are ailing. He targets Mr. Dunne on his age, not only speaking negatively to the other townsfolk about a peacekeeper of that age, but playing on JD's insecurities when he talks to him. He...” Suddenly the well-refined young man is gone and an angry teenager is in his place, twisting his head to look indignantly up at Josiah. “He threatened to turn Vin into the Marshals, Josiah!” Josiah growled and tugged Ezra tighter into his chest.

 

“That won't happen. We're a family and we protect each other.” Hell, when Chris heard that, Josiah was going to have a hell of a time keeping him in line, and he wasn't sure he wanted too. “None of it will happen again. Ezra, son, you left somebody out. What did he do to you?”

 

Silence. Then a far too airy sounding, “Nothing of consequence.”

 

“Of course it is. Was he the one who put that garbage about shaming me in your head?” When Ezra shrugged Josiah about snarled. That was enough of a yes for him.

 

“Those exact words were nevah used.”

 

“But the ones he used made you feel that way?” It both was and wasn't a question.

 

“Yes sah.”

 

“I wish you would have come to me, son. You told me you would, next time someone said something cruel like that.” As much as Josiah wished it was the first time this had happened, Ezra's gambling and the rumors of his history that occasionally circled Four Corners, had brought out more than one judgmental person. Ezra, of course, hadn't said a word and Josiah never would have known if he hadn't come across the bank manager all but ripping his boy's head off for the crime of opening the door to Mrs. Potter's store for his daughter.

 

To be fair, his bodily pulling the man away from Ezra and backing him into the nearby alley, while explaining loudly and in great detail how the Lord viewed bullies, had probably not encouraged the boy to come to him. Josiah sometimes missed the days when he alone bore the burden of his faults.

 

“Ah apologize.”

 

“I ain't mad at you, Ezra. Just wish you would have let me help.” Ezra looked at him questioningly, and Josiah realized with a chuckle where his mind had gone. “Not with the prank, son. With what happened, how you felt.”

 

“Ah find it difficult to do so.” From the strained tone of his voice, just admitting that he found it difficult was difficult. “But Ah can try.” A little burst of pride pumped through Josiah at that.

 

“I think I already have a good idea, but it would help if I knew just what he has been saying to you.” Josiah tried not to swear in the church, but it was an effort to refer to Conklin as he rather than “godless scum sucking bastard”. Ezra took in a deep breath and then pulled away from Josiah, straightening up. He glanced at Josiah out of the corner of his eye, and he smiled softly at him.

 

“Sometimes Mr. Conklin talks about mah parentage, mah mothah. Ah know you have mixed feelings on Mothah, Josiah...but, she's mah mothah. A man should not have to put up with hearing such things. He believes that because of mah past and certain of mah habits that anything he accuses me of is believable, and simply assumes that if Ah were to complain both you and the citizenry in general would take his side. Told me that to mah face.”

 

“I wouldn't.” Josiah said fiercely, and Ezra looked over at him, startled momentarily by the interruption, and he felt the need to repeat it. “I wouldn't believe that man over you.”

 

Ezra smiled just a bit and, voice soft, said, “Ah know you wouldn't, Mr. Sanchez.” For a moment his usually guarded eyes shone at Josiah with a level of trust and admiration that left him humbled. Then those same eyes darkened and in a voice that was equally as soft but almost painful to listen to, he said, “Ah am not so sure about the othahs.” Before Josiah could protest this Ezra carried on, “Ah fear that he may be right. That bad blood and breeding will out, and whethah Ah have before or not, Ah will wind up shaming you in the end. That Ah'm corrupt and a bad influence on JD and the othah children. Ah try to tell mahself it isn't true...but Ah've done things, Josiah, things that you don't know about, or Judge Travis, things that a good man wouldn't do.”

 

Josiah was tempted to swat the boy for saying such things about himself, but then frowned at the thought. He couldn't ask Ezra to talk to him, and then punish him for doing so, it wouldn't be right, and it sure as hell wasn't worth ruining the small, but solid and growing, foundation of trust he'd built with the young man. “And how old were you, son, when you did those things?”

 

“Ah fail to see how that matters. Ah still did them.”

 

“Really? And if JD were to come to you, confess to some similar sin, you wouldn't consider the boy's age?”

 

“John Daniel is an innocent, and couldn't possibly have been involved in the sorts of things Ah was. The idea is preposterous.”

 

“But if it were to happen, would you?”

 

Ezra sighed, but admitted it. “Of course.”

 

“Why should you deserve any less?” Josiah didn't give Ezra time to answer, fairly certain he wouldn't, and not sure at all he wanted to hear the answer if he did, but wanting him to think on it. “Ezra, you were a child, doing as your mother told you. Not too many years ago a smart man said, 'Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children'. When a child is led astray by a parent it is not the child's fault. Your Mama hurt you, whether she knew it or not, when she taught you her trade.” Well it was a little different every time, this was not the first they'd had this talk, and by now Josiah knew it wouldn't be the last. Ezra's mother had a lot to answer for when it came to her son. Josiah had briefly, but greatly, admired Maude Standish-never trusted her, not after what he'd learned from first the Judge and then Ezra, but admired her in spite of his better judgment.

 

It had taken all of two days of watching how she treated Ezra, as though he were a trick pony she were particularly proud of, before that admiration had turned to disgust. As he and Ezra had gotten closer and he learned more-heard about a young boy dressed purposely in threadbare, tattered clothing during the coldest times of the year, sent out to beg, to “hone his skills”, wiped a too-warm face during fevered mutterings where Ezra had begged not to be sent away again-that disgust had become very close to hatred. That he was still undeniably drawn to the woman was a mystery to him, and Josiah's cross to bear. “What matters son, is that you have not only chosen to get away from her, you have chosen to live your life in a very different way. Once you were given the opportunity to make your own decision you began to make the right ones.”

 

“Not always. That year Ah was on mah own...”

 

“Hell boy, you think I always make the right ones? You saw that mess I got into over Miss Dubonnet. Doubt I ever met a perfect man in my life, and I reckon they'd be pretty boring anyway.” Josiah considered pointing out that Ezra had looked pretty damn hungry that day in the saloon he'd been cheating at darts, and he imagined a lot of other days that year, but the gambler shot off at any suggestion that he couldn't take care of himself. “You got a good heart and you try. For all you hide it. Nathan told me what you did for Miss Li Pong, giving her your savings to get home. He was mighty proud of you for that, and I am too. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about.”

 

“He wasn't supposed to say anything,” Ezra muttered, embarrassed.

 

“Your big brother likes bragging on you.” Josiah grinned just a bit as Ezra's cheeks reddened at that. Nathan and Ezra had probably taken the longest out of all of them to figure each other out, each wary of the other, each associating the other with old hurts. They had definitely taken the longest to call each other brother. Slowly and steadily that had changed, and Nathan's patience had a lot to do with that, as Ezra at times seemed to take a special delight in needling the healer. Though on the days Nathan had been outraged by some trick of Ezra's, and lost his temper, it had been Ezra's forgiveness that had been needed. It was probably the day he'd seen the two of them teaming up together to torment the hell out of Buck about being rejected by Inez yet again, that Josiah had realized things had finally fallen into place. That they had passed the stage of being like a family and become one. The two could still fight like cats and dogs on the right subject, but there was no real malice or anger behind it, if anything they seemed to enjoy it. Ezra tried to hide a yawn, and with a glance at the waning light outside Josiah realized just how long they'd been in here. It was time to wrap this up, before they were both completely wrung out. “Ezra, can you promise me to think about what I said?” A stiff, almost reluctant nod. “Good. Now, I think it's time to deal with why we came here in the first place.”

 

“Ah've already been forced to discuss mah feelings...surely, that's punishment enough...” It was muttered even quieter than before, and Josiah wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it or not, but responded anyway.

 

“Talking about how you feel ain't punishment, that's just life. Now, I can understand you boys wanting to do something about Conklin, what I can't understand is why you did what you did, rather than using your roles as peacekeepers.”

 

“Mr. Conklin, while most offensive, has yet to attempt horse thievery or robbing the bank, so Ah am not sure what we could do.”

 

“I'm not telling you to shoot the man, Ezra, but it's not only horse thieves we're required to deal with. If he was saying the kinds of things I'm imagining about your Ma, you could have locked him up for using that kind of language in public.” Ezra's mouth had fallen open, surprised enough that his mask fell entirely and he just gaped at Josiah for a second, before recovering himself with a shake of his head.

 

“We don't ordinarily enforce those sorts of laws, the townsfolk-”

 

“Aren't the ones who make the laws. We don't ordinarily enforce them because most folks don't draw attention to themselves, become a nuisance. Conklin has clearly become more than that.” Josiah straightened his shoulders and looked down at Ezra. “More than that, son, when you accepted the title of peacekeeper, the power that comes with being a lawman, there were certain responsibilities that came along with it.* Now, I'm no saint, and I certainly don't expect you to be, but there are certain things that a lawman just can't do, and pulling nasty pranks on the townspeople is one of them. No matter how well deserved. Not only does it undermine your authority, but Conklin now has a mighty big weapon to use against us. How much easier do you think it will be for him to stir up the town with this story under his belt?”

 

“That particular consequence had not occurred to me.” Ezra admitted.

 

“I didn't think it had. You need to start thinking about the long term consequences of your actions, but until then, I'm here to remind you with some short-term ones.” Josiah slid farther down the pew, closer to Ezra, reaching over to grab his wrist and pull the young man down across his lap. Ezra stiffened, but didn't fight him, taking a deep breath as he let Josiah haul him over. Once he had him settled, Josiah wasted no time in starting, they had discussed this enough. Ezra tried to distract himself from the flurry of swats landing every which way on his backside, but it did no good, memories of poker games and memorized lines from Chaucer couldn't compete with the fiery sting that was building. Memories of _his_ Chaucer didn't help either, just reminding him that sitting a horse would be out for at least the rest of the day. He clamped his mouth shut as the swats dusted down to the tops of his thighs, scorching them, then back up again to start at the top. It felt, Ezra thought, rather like his entire hindquarters was being rained on by matches.

 

You would think that with his build Josiah would be the most heavy handed of the peacekeepers, but Ezra had reason to know he was not. Chris had an even, heavy hand, and attacked a backside the same way he went after outlaws, with precision. Buck spanked based on the offense, or possibly his mood, it was never the same twice. Nathan had swatted him about five times once (he maintained that he had NOT deserved it, and that he'd had the situation with that horse trader _entirely_ in his control) and had a swing that put the rest to shame. Josiah peppered a man, with sharp, stinging slaps, that had surprisingly little weight behind them, for all those he was applying now had Ezra clamping down on the yelps that were trying to force their way past his lips. He made up for the lack of force with both volume and speed, that quickly built a fire like nothing else. Ezra had yet to decide which of the three was worse. If it were Mr. Larabee it would be longer before he could sit down comfortably, and the lack of predictability when it came to Mr. Wilmington was unsettling. With Josiah the pain didn't last as long, and he knew what to expect, but the sting was _dreadfully_ hard to bear with any dignity, the gasps that were now leaving his mouth with regularity proving that beyond a doubt.

 

Though the time he'd upset the older man enough that his hand had fallen both quick and hard stood out in his memory as by far the worst. He and Vin had solemnly promised the other after that they would never attempt to play tag on the rooftops of Four Corners again. It had not been worth it, by any stretch of the imagination. A tear trickled down Ezra's cheek, then another. Lord, forget the matches, a stove top was being pressed into his backside! He grabbed onto the edge of the pew-he would not humiliate himself by reaching back. Was Josiah's hand made of bees? It certainly felt like it. “Alright now. We're done. We're done.” The hand that had just been lighting him on fire started rubbing at his back, and Ezra let himself sag for just a moment. It was done. Then he began pushing himself to his feet, hurriedly accepting the handkerchief Josiah handed him and wiping his face with his head bent down, hating that he had given into tears, if only for a moment. Josiah gave him his minute, then climbed to his feet, clamping a hand on Ezra's shoulder. “You understand why I did that?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Sanchez. Ah will not give into the temptation to take petty revenge, not with the downsides you listed.” A sly grin spread across Ezra's face as he looked up at Josiah. “Next time Ah will simply arrest the perpetrator.” Josiah's booming laugh filled the church, shaking his head as he attempted to tousle a quickly-ducking Ezra's hair.

 

*.*

*.*.*.*.*.*

*.*

 

 

 

*You have no idea how badly I wanted Josiah to say “with great power comes great responsibility”. NO IDEA

 

 

A/N: So this took me way longer than I thought because Josiah is hard as _**hell**_ to write. Was reading through episode transcripts to try and get his speech down, and am not quite sure I managed it. Plus both he and Ezra are talkers, and Ezra has all those lovely emotions he tries so hard to conceal. Either way I hope you all enjoyed it. I have a feeling it's going to be longer for the next one, because while I know what I want to say, it's a Nathan chapter and the concept of Nathan, an Old West Nathan, and corporal punishment is a tricky one that I intend to do my best to handle sensitively. So, to help tide you over, here is a sneak peak.

 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

The three older men sat around the saloon table, sipping their drinks, and shaking their heads at the antics of the 'kids', and deciding what they were going to do about Conklin. “Well,” Josiah said with a sigh, kicking his feet up on the chair across from him, “At least there's one thing we can count on.”

 

“What's that?” Buck asked obligingly, before taking a pull from his glass.

 

“Nathan will never cause the kind of trouble the other three do.” The three men laughed and clinked their glasses together, grateful for small favors.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Meanwhile, up in the clinic...

 

“I can't believe I missed it!” Nathan groused, unpacking the things he'd taken out to the Mendez ranch from his bag, laying them out one by one to be sterilized and repacked.

 

“Unfortunately, such things as good weather and babies do not tend to come when we wish, but only on a whim of their own.” Ezra's hands were steepled on his lap, attempting to look wise as he leaned back in the one rickety chair the clinic had.

 

Vin stared at Ezra from where he'd propped himself on the wall by the clinic door, “Ya've been spendin' t' much time with 'Siah.”

 

“You woulda loved it Nate, Conklin was floundering all over the place, yelling and shouting and wiping at his face.” JD was grinning nearly as big as he had been when he watched it happen, and began imitating Conklin's frantic movements, jumping and wiping at his face, “going all, 'get it off me, get it off me'” Nathan who had turned around to watch, leaning back on the desk behind him, couldn't help but laugh at his antics, but tried to shush him anyway.

 

“Alright, alright, calm down now. Last thing we need is for them overprotective big brothers we got to come up here and hear us.”

 

“Last thing _you_ need, you mean,” Ezra said dryly, “the rest of us have already been 'handled' as Mr. Larabee would say, and we kept your name thoroughly out of it, once again.” 

 

Nathan shrugged, “Thanks for that, but I never asked you to lie for me.” He looked over at Ezra, raising an eyebrow, “Prefer it if you didn't, really. It ain't gonna make me happy if you get into trouble to keep me out of it.”

 

“Ah didn't lie.” Nathan's eyebrow rose even higher, expecting an answer, which Ezra, studiously casual, gave. “Ah refused to tell him whose idea it was.”

 

Nathan snorted, a grin growing on his face, “And you're still alive?”

 

“Ah gave mah word, and Ah kept it. Mr. Sanchez understood. Besides, you wouldn't tell on me.”

 

“Would in a second if you were doing something dangerous. That goes for all y'all.” Nathan moved his gaze so he could see all three of his 'little brothers', Ezra rolling his eyes expressively at the obviousness of this statement.

 

“Not for something like this though, right Nathan? I mean, I know we got caught, but if we hadn't?” JD looked slightly uncertain, and Nathan nodded reassuringly.

 

“Course not. This wasn't dangerous, just funny. 'Sides, would have had to tell on myself, wouldn't I?” The grin grew on his face again, “Honest, sounds like it woulda been worth getting caught, to see Conklin dance around like that. Especially after all that time I spent getting the mixture right.”

 

“Don't worry, mastermind, you'll get caught onea these days.”

 

Pushing himself off the desk, mind on the saloon and a drink, Nathan pulled the jacket he'd hardly taken off before the three had descended on him off the chair he'd laid it on and started to shrug into it, “Hey, don't be calling me that, this is the only one I helped on.”

 

Vin snorted, eyes dancing, “It was your idea to put the food coloring in Chris's whiskey.”

 

“I ain't the one who actually did it. _Still_ can't believe you did. Told you I was joking.” Then he shrugged, “Besides, if he wants to drink like that he deserves blue teeth.”

 

“Think it was the blue that came out when he went to the privy that really bothered him.” JD snickered into his hand, Vin joining in as the other two rolled their eyes at them.

 

“You stood guard for me when Ah removed Buck's neck cloths right before his “special night” with Miss Blossom.” Ezra drawled, tipping back further in his chair, so that only two legs rested on the ground.

 

Nathan looked slightly affronted here, “You told me you were going to grab a book you'd lent him! Only reason I was even there was we were supposed to be going to help Mrs. Potter move in her new shipment and I had to go find you. I didn't even know what was going on until you were halfway out the boarding house, pockets full of neck cloths, grinning like a damn loon. And quit leaning back in that chair like that, you'll crack your head open.”

 

“Details, details.” Ezra waved a hand in the air, and rocked back even further, Nathan narrowing his eyes at him.

 

“I'll detail your behind, you don't sit right.” With a sigh, Ezra obligingly let the chair thump forward, trying to hide his wince as his sore rear thumped down as well. He didn't hide it as well as he thought, and Nathan grimaced, the guilt that had settled in his stomach when he realized everybody but him had been caught rising up again. He would have made damn sure they were hidden better, if the Mendoz boy hadn't come calling for him at the last minute, and they likely wouldn't have been caught at all, but Nathan knew that wasn't really the point. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes, pulling it away in time to see a knowing look from Vin. “Alright, I'm going to the saloon. Don't gotta come with me, but you can't stay here.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

The three older men sat around the saloon table, sipping their drinks, and shaking their heads at the antics of the 'kids', and deciding what they were going to do about Conklin. “Well,” Josiah said with a sigh, kicking his feet up on the chair across from him, “At least there's one thing we can count on.”

 

“What's that?” Buck asked obligingly, before taking a pull from his glass.

 

“Nathan will never cause the kind of trouble the other three do.” The three men laughed and clinked their glasses together, grateful for small favors.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Meanwhile, up in the clinic...

 

“I can't believe I missed it!” Nathan groused, unpacking the things he'd taken out to the Mendez ranch from his bag, laying them out one by one to be sterilized and repacked.

 

“Unfortunately, such things as good weathah and babies do not tend to come when we wish, but only on a whim of their own.” Ezra's hands were steepled on his lap, attempting to look wise as he leaned back in the one rickety chair the clinic had.

 

Vin stared at Ezra from where he'd propped himself on the wall by the clinic door, “Ya've been spendin' t' much time with 'Siah.”

 

“You woulda loved it Nate, Conklin was floundering all over the place, yelling and shouting and wiping at his face.” JD was grinning nearly as big as he had been when he watched it happen, and began imitating Conklin's frantic movements, jumping and wiping at his face, “going all, 'get it off me, get it off me.'” Nathan who had turned around to watch, leaning back on the desk behind him, couldn't help but laugh at his antics, but tried to shush him anyway.

 

“Alright, alright, calm down now. Last thing we need is for them overprotective big brothers we got to come up here and hear us.”

 

“Last thing _you_ need, you mean,” Ezra said dryly, “the rest of us have already been 'handled' as Mr. Larabee would say, and we kept your name thoroughly out of it, once again.” 

 

Nathan shrugged, “Thanks for that, but I never asked you to lie for me.” He looked over at Ezra, raising an eyebrow, “Prefer it if you didn't, really. It ain't gonna make me happy if you get into trouble to keep me out of it.”

 

“Ah didn't lie.” Nathan's eyebrow rose even higher, expecting an answer, which Ezra, studiously casual, gave. “Ah refused to tell him whose idea it was.”

 

Nathan snorted, a grin growing on his face, “And you're still alive?”

 

“Ah gave mah word, and Ah kept it. Mr. Sanchez understood. Besides, you wouldn't tell on me.”

 

“Would in a second if you were doing something dangerous. That goes for all y'all.” Nathan moved his gaze so he could see all three of his 'little brothers', Ezra rolling his eyes expressively at the obviousness of this statement.

 

“Not for something like this though, right Nathan? I mean, I know we got caught, but if we hadn't?” JD looked slightly uncertain, and Nathan nodded reassuringly.

 

“'Course not. This wasn't dangerous, just funny. 'Sides, would have had to tell on myself, wouldn't I?” The grin grew on his face again, “Honestly, it sounds like it would've been worth getting caught, to see Conklin dance around like that. Especially after all that time I spent getting the mixture right.”

 

“Don't worry, mastermind, ya'll get caught onea these days.”

 

Pushing himself off the desk, mind on the saloon and a drink, Nathan pulled the jacket he'd hardly taken off before the three had descended on him off the chair he'd laid it on and started to shrug into it, “Hey, don't be calling me that, this is the only one I helped on.” Nathan still wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten involved in the first place.

 

Vin snorted, eyes dancing, “It was yer idea t' put the food colorin' in Chris's whiskey.”

 

“I ain't the one who actually did it. _Still_ can't believe you did. I told you I was joking.” Then he shrugged, “Besides, if he wants to drink like that he deserves blue teeth.”

 

“Think it was the blue that came out when he went to the privy that really bothered him.” JD snickered into his hand, Vin joining in as the other two rolled their eyes at them.

 

“You stood guard for me when Ah removed Buck's neck cloths right before his “special night” with Miss Blossom.” Ezra drawled, tipping back further in his chair, so that only two legs rested on the ground.

 

Nathan looked affronted here, “You told me you were going to grab a book you'd lent him! Only reason I was even there was we were supposed to be going to help Mrs. Potter move in her new shipment and I had to find you. I didn't even know what was going on until you were halfway out the boarding house, pockets full of neck cloths, grinning like a damn loon. And quit leaning back in that chair like that, you'll crack your head open.”

 

“Details, details.” Ezra waved a hand in the air, and rocked back even further, Nathan narrowing his eyes at him.

 

“I'll detail your behind, you don't sit right.” With a sigh, Ezra obligingly let the chair thump forward, trying to hide his wince as his sore rear thumped down as well. He didn't hide it as well as he thought, and Nathan grimaced, the guilt that had settled in his stomach when he realized everybody but him had been caught rising up again. He would have made damn sure they were hidden better if the Mendez boy hadn't come calling for him at the last minute, and they likely wouldn't have been caught at all, but Nathan knew that wasn't really the point. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes, pulling it away in time to see a knowing look from Vin. “Alright, I'm going to the saloon. Don't gotta come with me, but you can't stay here.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Nathan tried to keep a smile on his face as the conversation flowed around the table. Everyone would be expecting him to be happy, tired sure, but happy, after the birth had gone so well. Only the tiny ball of guilt kept growing in his stomach, not helped by Josiah shooting him a half humorous, half commiserating look when he'd settled in his usual seat next to the preacher, the man asking him, “Did you hear yet about what your brothers pulled today?”

 

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd wound up planning the prank on Conklin-it certainly hadn't started out that way. During the prank war that had spread even to the older peacekeepers two months ago (and been brought to an untimely end by whoever had hidden all of Josiah's bibles in different store cellars around town. Nathan still figured it hadn't been one of them, he couldn't imagine any of the seven being _that_ stupid.), the boys had half taken over the clinic for their “battle planning” as JD had insisted on calling it. Nathan had let them, as long as he didn't have any patients, a little because they were entertaining, but mostly to make sure they didn't take things too far. If they used the clinic then he got to veto the worst of their ideas. Like Vin's suggestion that they shave Buck's mustache.

 

When the boys had all piled into the clinic at once last week, all three of them talking at the same time, he'd figured somebody was hurt, had been scanning them up and down for visible injuries before they were all the way through the door. Instead, they'd told him they had had enough, Conklin was taking things too far. Revenge of some type was necessary.

 

Nathan, assuming they'd been talking about the way the man had treated him earlier that morning, that Ezra had gotten it out of Mary, maybe, had hastened to assure them that he was just fine. Vin and Ezra hadn't been surprised, angry, but not surprised, Ezra at least had extracted him from a 'conversation' with Conklin once, and the way Vin and him were attached at the hip these days he'd probably told him. JD, on the other hand, had been horrified and blurted out, “He's mean to you too?”, the boy still half convinced the older peacekeepers were invincible. JD had, somehow in all the roughness of the old west, retained most of his innocence, and Nathan hated that Conklin was stealing a bit more.

 

Mostly, in that moment he'd hated the word too.

 

Reluctantly, with much prodding, Nathan had gotten a few stories out of the boys, and his first instinct had been to tell the others. He'd known Conklin was rude to all the peacekeepers, but Nathan had thought he was the only one he'd taken it so far with.

 

They did not agree. They were adults, and should be able to handle this themselves. Nathan, hiding a smile, had countered with adults generally didn't deal with their problems by pranking people. Vin had looked him square in the eye and said, “Yep, but I figure if'n I do what I want there'll be trouble.”, and yeah, Nathan had figured that was probably true.

 

He'd held steady until JD had hissed at Ezra, clearly thinking he was being quieter than he was, “Tell him about your shoulder.”, Nathan's head whipping between them as he heard it.

 

“What about your shoulder?” Ezra's trick shoulder hadn't been giving him any favors, had popped out at least three times since that day in the Seminole village, and he knew he was supposed to come to Nathan if he did anything to it.

 

Ezra looked at a spot on Nathan's forehead rather than his eyes, “Oh, you know how excitable JD can be-”

 

Vin snorted, cutting him off with an acerbic, “Woulda made me a little excitable too, seein' Conklin yankin' on ya like that.”

 

“He laid his hands on you?” The words had come out hushed, because if they hadn't the fury vibrating inside of Nathan would have made them a shout, and it wasn't Ezra he was mad at. Ezra flushed, looking away, looking ashamed, like _he'd_ been the one in the wrong, and that was it. “I'm looking at that shoulder before you leave. Alright, what's the plan?”

 

Then of course, they hadn't had a plan, all the pranks that had been planned for use on member's of the Seven weren't nearly nasty enough to be used on Conklin. It had taken a while but Nathan had finally suggested something he'd seen the master's son on his old plantation pull on a visiting cousin after Vin had told him about how JD had tripped and gotten a bit of jam on the man's suit, and Conklin had yelled at him until he was so upset the usually chattering kid had been all but silent for their entire patrol. At the time he'd seen it he'd felt very sorry for the victim, the boy hadn't done anything to deserve it, Thomas Jackson had just had a mean streak in him that had seemed to grow bigger every year. The idea of Joe Conklin stumbling around, blinded and covered by a sticky, stinking, mess-that was just plain satisfying.

 

Nathan had done his best to not bow to that man, to have his pride, but even here, in this town that mostly accepted him, with friends as good as family to watch his back, there was only so far he could push.

 

They might have let it happen out of fear, but Nathan would never forget the day he'd nearly been lynched for doing everything he could to save a man who was more than half dead already. He would never forget standing in that wagon, the rope around his neck, as people he'd treated, people whose bones he'd set, whose wounds he'd stitched, whose _children_ he'd brought into this world, had stood around, some horrified, some disgusted, some indifferent, some just plain scared, and a few, a few had looked approving. Only one of them, only Mary Travis, a woman by herself and with a shotgun too big for her, had tried to do a damn thing to stop it. It had been two strangers, two strangers he called family now, who had saved his life.

 

He would never forget.

 

Nathan held his head high. He didn't rise to Conklin's bait, refused to respond if the man called him anything but Mister Jackson, ignored him in general whenever he could, but stayed polite when he had to interact with him.

 

He never, never, forgot.

 

Josiah's hand nudged his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts in time to hear most of what the preacher was saying to him, “-went alright, didn't it? You look like something's troubling you.”

 

“Yeah, thought I told you,” He must have been even more distracted than he thought, “Beautiful, healthy, baby girl, they named her Alma. Mrs. Mendez is doing just fine too.” Josiah looked confused now, but before he could say anything Buck broke in with a snort.

 

“Hell Nate, you did tell us that. Preacher-man was asking about your visit out to see Rain last week.” He shook his head, grinning, “You do seem lost in the clouds, having a little trouble with lady love? Ol' Buck can help you out in that department, all you got to do is ask.”

 

Nathan's face made an expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile, “Uh, yeah, sorry Buck, but me and Rain are doing just fine, don't think I'll be needing any advice.” As much as he knew Buck's methods worked for Buck, he was about the last person Nathan would go to for relationship advice. “I'm just tired is all, nothing for anybody to worry about.” That was accepted easily enough by everyone and they moved back to their usual habit of three different conversations going on at once, everybody interjecting and interrupting whenever they felt like it, but Nathan could still feel Josiah's eyes on him, watchful.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Nathan hesitated outside the church's back door, not sure if he wanted to go in or not, but knowing if he went back to his bed he wouldn't be able to sleep any better now than he'd been able to since he laid down. He was exhausted, as much as he was guilty, and he couldn't afford to be either, to be distracted when either an attack on the town or a medical emergency could happen at anytime, and people would be counting on him.

 

If the others had gotten away with it he would have taken it to-well, maybe not his grave, but he would have kept his mouth shut for a good long while. Conklin had deserved what he got. If the man couldn't be taught simply, like when he'd seen him in the middle of conversation with Mrs. Potter and called out, “Mister Jackson!”, loud and demanding, from down the boardwalk and Nathan, knowing his manners, had said his goodbyes to Mrs. Potter before starting to turn and see what Conklin wanted now. Before he had moved more than a few degrees, the same voice snapped out, “Boy! Didn't you hear me!?” His right hand, the one still out of Conklin's view, had tightened into a fist even as the other still hung loose, and Nathan hated that, that even now his body still responded like that, still hid the signs of anger and discontent so automatically, even as another knew it had kept him alive, kept him safe so many times.

 

'No,' he had thought, 'I don't hear you, my ears don't work for narrow-minded, puffed-up, self-important bigots.” Instead of completing the turn towards Conklin he'd walked down the steps of the Potter's store, looking to make sure no carriages would flatten him before he started across to the saloon. He had found more than a bit of satisfaction in the man's splutters of disbelief behind him as he continued to ignore his calls of 'boy' until they dropped off. The man didn't seem ill, and the few times he or his kin had been he tended to mind his manners better, the snake. When Mary had called out to him, coming out of the restaurant, and Nathan had turned, smiling and calling back a greeting as she walked over to join him on the boardwalk outside the saloon, telling him that the tea mix he'd given her had worked a wonder on Billy's allergies, he'd thought the man was going to explode. The grin Mary had given him as she walked away afterwards, approaching Mr. Conklin and asking if he had mislaid his son, since he had been calling for him earlier-'though I think Henry might come more readily if you used his name, we have quite a few more little boys than we used to'-had eased away a lot of the sting of being treated like that. He was never going to entirely get away from the Conklin's in this world, Nathan knew that now, the war hadn't changed that, but friends like the ones he'd found here, they helped. They helped a lot.

 

If Conklin couldn't figure out from things like that that Nathan wasn't going to put up with being treated like less than he was, like less than a man, that he didn't have the right to treat people like they weren't human, because they were colored, or poor, or young, raised by Indians, raised by saloons-that being different than what he thought people should be didn't make them not _people_ then he deserved what he got for it. He didn't feel guilty for that. Honestly, Nathan was still disappointed he'd missed it.

 

But the boys being punished and him getting away with it? That didn't sit right. That didn't sit right at all, and Nathan knew himself well enough to know it was going to weigh on him until he did something about it. They looked up to him, had turned to him to figure out what to do and even though he'd known it was risky he hadn't stopped them, had actually been, for just one prank, the mastermind. Swallowing hard, he stepped up the two steps to the door and rapped soundly on it before he could change his mind. There was nothing for a minute and Nathan had raised his hand to knock again when he heard a muffled groaning sound and then Josiah climbing to his feet in the small room, clearing his throat. “Who's there?”

 

“It's me, Josiah, Nathan.”

 

“Nathan?” The door was pulled open quickly, and a sleepy Josiah looked him up and down, “You alright, brother? Trouble?”

 

Nathan shook his head slowly, “No trouble,” except for what he was about to be in, “I just need to talk to you, if that's alright.”

 

“Of course,” Josiah stood back and motioned for him to come in, “always, you know that.” Nathan moved his bulk up the steps, suddenly feeling very small even as Josiah had to slide back a little further to give him enough room to get through the doorway. With a yawn Josiah moved back to his rumbled bed, giving a halfhearted tug on the blankets to straighten them before he sank down on top of them, patting the spot next to him in invitation like he had countless times before. Ordinarily Nathan, long used to Josiah's easy familiarity, would have sank down next to the man without question, but today he moved over to grab the chair next to the small bookcase that sat across from the preacher's bed, pulling it forward and settling down in it. Needing something to do with his hands he pulled the hat he'd put on purely by habit off and sat it in his lap, clasping the brim. “This is about what was bothering you at the saloon.”

 

Nathan nodded even though it hadn't been a question, and met Josiah's eyes, nervous now that the time had come, though still determined to go through with it. “Josiah, I helped the boys plan the prank on Conklin. It was even my idea to use the manure and white-wash mix, and the only reason I didn't get caught with them was the Mendez birth. I'm sorry, I know you expect me to be an example for them.” Nathan watched the surprise form on Josiah's face as he spoke and then a mixture of anger, disappointment and understanding cover that. It had been a long time since he'd given Josiah reason to look at him like that and Nathan felt his head ducking before he could stop it.

 

“Look at me, little brother.” Josiah's voice was firm, not to be ignored, and Nathan raised his head again, embarrassed that he'd looked down in the first place. “I'm not going to lie, and say I'm not disappointed in your choices, it was a foolish thing for you and the boys to do, and we'll certainly be dealing with it. That said, from what I've heard Conklin pushed you pretty damn hard, and I know the younger boys told you some of the problems they've been having with him. I can understand wanting to fight back-if not the manner it was done in.” He gave Nathan a long, searching look that the young healer couldn't have looked away from if he'd tried. “I don't expect you to put up with being treated like that, not at all. I do expect you to tell me if someone is harassing you and you are unable to put a stop to it yourself.” He paused briefly, before finishing with, “We've had that discussion before, Nathan,” his tone having softened an almost embarrassing amount.

 

“I'm not a kid anymore, Josiah, I can handle myself.”

 

“I know that Nathan, but just because you are able to do so doesn't mean you have to. We're family, and looking out for each other is part of that.” Another appraising look, and then a question, “I know you said the type of prank you pulled was your idea, but I don't think it was your idea to pull a prank in the first place.” It wasn't a question again, which was good, because Nathan wasn't sure what he would have said. It wasn't, but he'd joined in quickly enough. “I don't need to know whose it was, but I would like to know what exactly happened that got you involved, I know it must have been something big if the boys not only tried to involve you, but you went along with it.” Nathan fiddled with his hat brim again, not sure if that was an entirely good idea. Conklin laying his hands on any of the boys would have infuriated Josiah, that it was Ezra...Conklin was a bastard, but Josiah getting locked up for smashing his head in wouldn't help anything. “Nathan.”

 

He drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth...

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Josiah? ...Josiah?” Slowly, very slowly the rage that had started to take over, the roaring sound in his head, began to fade away, and Josiah's hands uncurled from the tight fists they had formed into. Nathan needed him. He couldn't go rip that vile, evil, little man's head from his body.

Not yet.

Josiah took in one deep breath and then another, willing his temper to subside. The fact that Ezra had been injured, and by a man that he already detested, a man who he'd already learned just today had been hurting the youngest members of his family again and again, was more than trying him. If Nathan hadn't needed him right then he wasn't sure just what he would have done, but the anxiousness and guilt on his little brother's face helped pushed those thoughts away, reinforced that he had to deal with family before he dealt with Conklin. “I know I should have told you, Josiah.”

“Yes, Nathan, you should have. But Vin should have told me as well, or even Ezra.” Pulling himself completely back to the situation, Josiah found himself compelled to look Nathan up and down again, searching for injuries he already knew weren't there. “Has he gotten physical with you?” 

“No,” Something that looked just a little like satisfaction crept into Nathan's expression, “he wouldn't. Pretty sure he's scared of me.” 

“Good.” It was a low growl, and a sincere one. He knew Nathan was big and strong, more than capable of defending himself, but he'd been hurt enough by men like Conklin. And no matter how grown he was, how good with a knife or a gun, it didn't mean he couldn't be hurt, it hadn't kept that mob from-Josiah shuddered, remembering the Johanson girl running up to him when he was working, voice terrified and shrill as she cried out that they were going to hang Mr. Nathan, and how even though he'd run faster than he thought he had ever run before, if it had been up to him it would have been too late.

His kind, selfless, utterly decent little brother would have hung.

Josiah did not want to punish him. He did not want to punish him at all.

But he'd made that mistake before, had avoided disciplining Nathan, both physically and otherwise, out of fear he would resent or hate him, wouldn't understand that it came from love, and hadn't realized he was leaving the then teenager to flounder without the support or guidance he needed. He would not do that to him again. It had only been twice he'd found a need to take Nathan over his knee, he'd always been responsible beyond his years and generally talking to him worked, and if not lines or assigning him some sort of constructive, but not particularly enjoyable, task had done the trick. Responsible or not though, there had been those few times Nathan had crossed that line and this was one of them. 

Josiah opened his mouth to tell Nathan to come sit by him-they still needed to talk more, but he wanted his brother by him for it-when he saw something in the other man's eyes that stopped him in his tracks. Fear. Not apprehension, not nervousness, but real _fear_.

Fear of _him?_ No. No, surely that couldn't be right. “Nathan?” His brother's head ducked, hands twisting his hat brim in a way Josiah wasn't sure it would recover from, “You know I won't punish you unless you agree you deserve it.”

“I know...and I know I do...and the boys were already punished...”, Nathan swallowed at the end of his sentence, seeming resigned to his fate, but Josiah wasn't going to let this go.

“What is it?”

“I just...it's nothing.” He shook his head, face still pointed more at the floor than Josiah, and the preacher could see the tension building in his body.

“Nathan, tell me.” It was a gentle order, but still an order, and after a moment he managed to get the words out.

“Not sure I can take it 'Siah. Know you wouldn't hurt me, never have before, but...” Nathan shook his head again, unable to explain properly, the nerves coming off of him seeming to fill the air.

It took Josiah a moment to find words himself, but when he did he thought they were right. He hated that they were right, but he was certain they were. “But before you hadn't had someone reminding you constantly of the way you were treated on the plantation. Someone trying to make you feel like less than a man. Reminding you of when someone _did_ hurt you, hurt you badly.” It took a moment but Nathan's head nodded, slowly and stiffly. That likely explained why it had taken his usually scrupulously honest little brother until the middle of a sleepless night to confess. That man was going to pay for this. “Then we'll come up with something else. I'm not going to punish you in a way that scares you.” Nathan's face didn't clear entirely, still seeming ashamed, and not of his mischief, Josiah thought, but what he was thinking of as weakness, but he could see some relief there. “You did the right thing, telling me that. I don't ever want to really hurt you.” Nathan's head bobbed up and and down again, enough for Josiah to see him swallow what looked to be a painfully large lump in his throat. “C'mere.”

Nathan stayed where he was, breath a little rough, so Josiah got to his feet and moved over to him, settling his hand on a broad shoulder and squeezing gently. Some of the tension he could feel in the tight muscles eased, but not enough. “I don't want you to ever take to heart the things men like Conklin say. He's a foolish, bitter, angry man, who has no real respect for himself and so he can't have real respect for anyone else either. Half the reason he gives you so much trouble is because you are so much better than him in all the ways that matter, and his shallow mind can't accept that a colored man is. You're one of the smartest, bravest, kindest, men I know and I have been so proud as I watched you grow.” The shoulder under his hand started to shake and Josiah squeezed it again, then squatted down, pulling Nathan toward him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, as Nathan, for the first time since his had Daddy died, buried his head in his chest and cried.

*.*.*.*.* 

Poking dispassionately at his half-finished eggs, Josiah finished quietly, “And I think the worst part is, if I hadn't noticed he would have just let me tan him.” Chris, across from him at the far end of the long boarding house table, growled into his cup of coffee.

“Right about now I wish I weren't the law.” Josiah quirked an eyebrow at him, and Chris finished, “Don't much feel like upholding it at the moment.” There was a depth of promise in the gunslinger's eyes that did not bode well for the one it was aimed at.

“Amen, brother.”

“The boys interrupted us before we could finish discussing things last night. Nathan squared away?”

“Still sleeping, and I imagine he will for a while. It was after two before I got him back to the clinic-refused to take my bed,” Josiah groused this bit more to himself, than to Chris, “no matter that I've slept on worse than a bedroll many a time-and it's early yet.”

“Good. I'll get Buck out of bed.”

*.*.*.*.*

Nathan looked around the inside of the chicken coop in relief-when Josiah had told him yesterday that his punishment was going to be spending the next day repairing Miz Nettie's chicken coop, and any other chores she had for him, he'd expected to have to clean it out first too. But once he'd unscrewed the big panel the chicken's door was set in so he could see into it, it was about as close to clean as a chicken coop could get, looking like it couldn't have been more than a few days since it had been swept and clean straw put in the nesting boxes and on the bottom of the coop. He could see that there was some minor damage to about three of the nesting boxes, and a fourth that was worse, and it looked like a roost had come off the wall-how he wasn't certain, but really this wasn't going to be bad at all.

“Luckily for you, I found a need to keep Casey extra occupied last week.” Nathan wasn't expecting the old woman to appear behind him just then and startled a little, relaxing as she laughed quietly and chuckling himself as he realized what she'd said. Yes, that was lucky for him, though he wondered just what Casey had gotten up to and whether JD had been involved.

“It does smell a sight better than I would have expected,” He smiled slightly, though he wondered if Josiah had been thinking the same thing he had, that cleaning the coop would be part of his punishment as well.

“That's when we noticed the hole in the back wall,” Miz Nettie pointed and Nathan's eyes moved with it to the bottom corner of the back wall, looking for the damage he'd missed and frowning as he saw it. The coop was up on stilts, but they were only about two and a half feet long, so he supposed it was probably a fox or a big raccoon, maybe a coyote, that had made the hole. But that wasn't just damage, a hole had been clawed or chewed through the wood. He could just patch it, but it would be better to take that whole board off and replace it.

“Did it get any of your chickens?” Nathan asked, looking down at the animals that were milling curiously around the two humans. He would have expected to hear about that, at least on the Casey to JD to the whole world telegraph line, but if not that animal had gone to a lot of trouble for nothing.

“No, thank goodness, I need that egg money. I dug a small hole and put an old board in it so it blocked the hole the first night, but it got knocked over the next night, likely by whatever is after either my chickens or their eggs.” Miz Nettie harrumphed slightly at the gall of the animal, giving the impression that she thought it should have known better than to mess with her. Nathan privately agreed.

“If you have a replacement for the board, I'll just replace the whole thing, should work better then patching it.”

Nettie smiled and patted him on the arm, saying, “I knew when I heard you were coming out to help it would get done proper. Mind you, I was a bit surprised to hear you'd gotten yourself in trouble.” Nathan felt himself flush, both at the compliment and the slight reprimand in Miz Nettie's voice with her last sentence, not sure what to say, and she patted him on the arm again before pulling away and saying briskly, “I think we still have some of the wood that was used to build this, in the back corner of the shed. Let's see if we can find one the right size, hmm?”, and turning on her heel, set off towards the shed. Setting off after her, Nathan had to smile. Nettie knew how to get things done, and get her point across at the same time.

One board of the right length, and a few other lengths of wood Nathan had decided he was going to reinforce the bottom edge of the chicken coop with (and permission to get more if it was needed), was retrieved from a spider-web filled corner and added to the arrangement of tools he'd borrowed from Josiah, and Nathan was ready to start. “Holler for me if you need anything, and come inside and get some lemonade when you're done.” Another pat to his arm that both warmed him and made him wonder just what Josiah had told her and Nettie was heading in to work on her own chores, leaving Nathan to decide if he was going to start on the inside or the outside of the coop first.

*.*.*.*.*

Three men stood off to the side of the modest, but fussy looking house on the small side street at the end of town, in-between it and main street, waiting for one of its occupants in particular to exit. The first part of their plan had been set in motion yesterday, though whether Conklin had noticed that many of the townspeople were not speaking to him yet was hard to say. The next time he went into Mrs. Potter's store and found the woman willing to take his money but not to say good day, that was going to be a sight to see, Chris knew.

The first one to leave the house was Henry, who despite being a bit arrogant, no surprise given who his father was, was actually a nice enough kid who spent most of his time running around with Billy and three or four other small boys. Mary had been a little worried about him being a bad influence when the boys started chumming around, but if anything it was the other way around, the boy learning that if he acted the brat his friends wouldn't include him in their games. He looked warily at the three peacekeepers, slowing as he got closer to them, but when Buck smiled and cheerfully asked him what he was going to do today, the boy grinned back and told them he was going to play marbles behind the stables, and then ran off to do just that, any questions he had had about why they were outside his house forgotten.

Finally, seemingly in no hurry, and clearly, judging by his expression, still not in the best of moods, Conklin came out the door and down the front steps. His expression soured even more as he saw them standing there, mouth open to complain about the well-deserved prank, no doubt, when, as one, they took a step forward and backed him up into the narrow alley in between his house and his nearest neighbor and into the wall. He stared angrily between them, outraged and more frightened than he was trying to show. “I don't know what you think you're do-”

“ _Shut-up.”_ It was said in Chris's iciest tones, as he leaned his face in close enough to Conklin he could smell the coffee on the other man's breath.

“You can't touch me! It's your job to protect-”

“Ain't no one touching you. Buck, you gonna touch him?”

The tall man snorted with a shake of his head, “Hell, I'd be afraid of what I'd catch.”

“Josiah?”

“Not if I want to keep the seventh commandment.” Josiah's voice was deep and grave, the voice he used when speaking of sin at his pulpit, and the loss of color to Conklin's face was very satisfying.

“See? No one's gonna lay a hand on your lily-livered hide. We're gonna talk though and you're gonna listen. Understand?” Chris waited a moment, and, when the man said nothing, growled, “Tell me you understand.”

Leaning in on his left side, Josiah's voice was quiet, a wicked grin playing over his lips, “Or don't. I'd _really_ like it if you didn't.”

“I understand,” It came out a strangled whisper, Conklin staring at Josiah like he was the devil himself, and Chis had to admit, he was damn glad the preacher was on their side.

Particularly when he snapped his fingers in a parody of good-natured disappointment, and said, voice completely humorless, “Darn.”

Buck, wanting to get his own brand of threatening in leaned in from the opposite side, so that now if Conklin moved his head more than a few inches in any direction he'd risk bumping into one of the peacekeepers, face hard and voice quiet and utterly serious in a way he seldom was, “Let's get a few things straight-you don't want this or worse happening to you everyday, you're gonna stay the hell away from our boys. You ain't gonna talk to them. You ain't gonna make demands of them. You sure as hell ain't gonna threaten them. You're not gonna spread nasty gossip about them or do anything to hurt any of them in anyway.”

“You won't even dream of laying your hands on or doing harm to _any_ of my brothers ever again, or your day of reckoning before the Lord may come sooner than you would expect.” Josiah said it like a promise, Conklin wildly swinging his eyes to him. “If you have need of the law you can come to one of us. If you have a medical problem and you need _Mr. Jackson's_ help you can either seek out one of us first or have a family member pass along the message.”

“And if you decide not to listen?” Chris paused, waiting until Conklin had swung his gaze from Josiah back to him, “I'm going to forget all about not touching you. Might take you awhile to recover from just how I'd touch you.” He grinned, a long, slow, lazy grin that had as much promise in it as the preacher's threat. There was an acrid smell then that made him curl his nose in disgust, and he was tempted to lean away.

“Think we made our point, boys.” Buck said baldly, “Best be letting Mr. Conklin go on about his business.” The three of them stepped back, but Josiah had one more thing to say, eyes still pinned on Conklin.

“'Thus I will punish the world for its evil And the wicked for their iniquity; I will also put an end to the arrogance of the proud And abase the haughtiness of the ruthless.' You might do well to think on those words of our Lord before it's too late.” Then he turned on his heel and stalked away, body language making it clear that he had no more time for such scum and Chris and Buck followed after, each certain that their point was clear.

*.*.*.*.*.* 

Nathan took a long pull off his second glass of lemonade, letting out a content sigh as he finished and set the glass down. Finishing the coop had taken a bit longer than he expected, Nathan needing to make sure both that his work was sturdy and that it looked decent, the boards flat and straight and even with each other. He'd had to make more use of the saw than he'd expected and get a few more pieces of wood from the shed, but Nathan would like to see anything chew or claw its way through the border he'd put around it. He'd already finished off the oatmeal cookies that Nettie had given him and was feeling a bit like he'd gained Vin's second stomach since he was still hungry. Nettie was across from him at the table sipping from her own glass, and when his stomach gave off a growl, embarrassing him a little and making her chuckle. “Worked up more of an appetite than cookies can fix, have you?”

“Yes'm.”

“Well, it's not too far off lunch time.  It'll be done faster if you'd rather help me get it ready, leave mucking out the lean-too for later..." Nettie trailed off and Nathan's almost too hasty agreement had her letting out a short laugh that sounded almost like a cackle. Standing up, she motioned for Nathan to follow her across the kitchen, the biggest room in the small house, and over to the counter. “You ever done any cooking before, boy?” For a second Nathan stiffened, and then he reminded himself that it was _Miz Nettie_ , and she called all of them boy, sometimes even Chris or Josiah, and she _didn't_ mean it the way Conklin did-, “Nathan? Are you alright, son?”

Shaking himself, he smiled at her, “Yes, I'm alright. Just thinking for a minute.”

Nettie looked at him appraisingly, then nodded, “In that case, you can fetch the bag of potatoes for me, off the shelf over there.” She pointed and Nathan went, and when he came back over, setting the bag on the floor for now, Nettie said quietly, but seriously, eyes on the chopping board and knife in front of her, “You ever need an ear to bend, you just remember, this old woman is always in the mood for good company. Now, have you done any cooking before?”

“A little, I can make baked beans and soda biscuits.” It had been awhile, both Miss Virginia at the boarding house and Inez's cooking had spoiled him, but mixing a recipe wasn't that different from mixing one of his herb teas, just had to get all the ingredients right and add them at the right time.

“Good, a unmarried man should always know how to make a few meals. It'll impress that pretty young lady I hear you've been courting too. Today, we're going to make stew...”


End file.
